


One Step Back

by SkystoneJexel



Series: The Skystone Sword [2]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Quest Rework, Sheep Shearer, Skulls of Draynor, Skystone Sword, black sheep, shiny things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkystoneJexel/pseuds/SkystoneJexel
Summary: While on his way to Draynor, the novice adventurer Jexel is forced to take an unexpected detour, leading him to a curious conundrum involving sheep.





	1. A Light in the Storm

The cool evening breeze blew gently across Jexel’s face as he forged on ahead, passing another sign by the road: ‘West to Draynor, 1 mile.’ He probably should have been there hours ago, but he had found it hard to resist the urge to deviate from the path a little. There was so much just waiting to be discovered in the forests beyond Lumbridge… he could have sworn he saw the unkempt mass of gray hair that was a wild giant rat earlier, but it scurried into its burrow before he could get a closer look.

The young adventurer sighed resignedly. There were surely more mysteries to be found in the forest beyond mere overgrown rats, but with the dark clouds that loomed overhead, a storm was surely coming, and he had no interest in being bathed in rainfall. He would take a moment to rest his aching legs, but after that, he would need to head straight to Draynor.

Seating himself upon a nearby boulder, he took a deep breath and looked once again to the sky. There was a small break in the clouds, the turquoise rays of a full moon shining through it. A faint smile graced his lips as he recalled the stories his mother had told him when he was younger. 

“The moon, Zanaris. That’s where the fairies live. They’re graceful little people with wings like a butterfly,” she had told him. “We may never see them, but they’re the ones who keep the world running properly. They make sure the seasons come on time, they make sure our harvests are bountiful, and they make sure it doesn’t rain too much or too little. They say the nature god Guthix created them to help Saradomin maintain the Natural Order.”

Now that he was older, he had to wonder… were the fairies real? How did anyone know about them? Had anyone been to Zanaris before to see them? If not, maybe he would be the first one to go there! He chuckled softly at the image of everyone on Gielinor seeing him on the moon waving down at them.

Of course, he probably wouldn’t be going to Zanaris anytime soon, but perhaps there were other places that he would be the first to-

“Put your hands up, traveler! NOW!”

Jexel gave a startled gasp and hastily complied, turning around to see the steel limbs of a crossbow staring him down, not two feet away from him. Behind it was a face mostly obscured by a mask and leather cowl, a pair of dark eyes its only discernible feature.

“Now, your money or your life!” the stranger snarled, pointing to a pouch on the young adventurer’s belt as he kept the crossbow trained on Jexel’s head with his other hand. “Take that pouch and hand it to me, slowly!”

The young adventurer reluctantly obliged, removing the pouch from his belt. No amount of money was worth dying over, and there was no way the highwayman would miss at such a short distance. However, as he prepared to hand it over, his heart accelerated with a sudden surge of anger. Even through the darkness of the night, he could just barely make out the symbol on the highwayman’s tunic… the symbol of the Skulls of Draynor, the very gang that was responsible for the raid in which his father perished. No… he was an adventurer now. He didn’t have to take this kind of nonsense from a thuggish simpleton with a crossbow, especially not if he was one of the Skulls.

With as much force as he could muster, he tossed the coin pouch straight at the gang member’s head as he gave a threatening shout. Taken off-guard, the gang member flinched, firing his crossbow blindly into the air. Now was his chance! Drawing his sword, he prepared to turn the tables on the fool who had the boneheaded idea to rob him, but a wave of dull pain shot through his arm as the gangster clubbed his wrist with the butt of his crossbow, knocking the bronze blade out of his hand. An instant later, another blow impacted his stomach and he doubled over with a pained cry. A third blow came down upon his back and he slumped to the ground, utterly beaten.

The gang member laughed cruelly. “How brave! The kid thinks he’s a hero! Maybe you should stick to rescuing cats, kid.” Jexel laid helplessly on the gravel of the road, struggling to rise as the Skull retrieved his sword and coin pouch. “I’ll be taking these now. Thanks for the sword!” he gloated as he calmly walked away into the night.

With a groan, the young adventurer attempted once again to raise himself, the gravel of the road digging into his hands and the pain that flared in his back muscles crying for him to give it up. With great effort, he rose to one knee, and fighting against the pain and the force of gravity, he finally willed himself to his feet, slowly but surely steadying himself.

Jexel gingerly rubbed his battered wrist. What was he going to do now? Without any money, there was no way he could pay for a room at one of Draynor’s inns. Perhaps he could sell something? No, he needed everything he had on him. Besides, the shops would almost certainly be closed at such an hour. Without anything to defend himself, it was too risky to camp out in the open. Reluctantly, he gave a deep sigh. The only option left to him was to return to Lumbridge. The young adventurer mentally cursed himself as he realized that in the chaos and confusion of the last few days, he had forgotten to attune Lumbridge’s lodestone to him before his departure. Though he had studied how to use the teleportation lodestones as part of his preparation for his apprenticeship at the tower, that knowledge would be of no use to him now. He would have to walk back.

He had hardly taken a step when he felt something cold and wet touch his face. A raindrop… of course. With so many other problems to worry about, he had almost forgotten about the coming storm… as much as his battered muscles complained, he would have to make haste.

It was not long before the storm was in full force, the constant pattering of rain and the occasional clap of thunder seeming to laugh at the unprepared adventurer as the freezing droplets pelted him, soaking his hair and clothes. It felt like he had been walking for hours, but who could say for sure? With the moon fully obscured by the storm’s dark clouds, he could barely see where he was going. With a shivering hand, he reached into his backpack and retrieved an unlit lantern, only to stare at it for a moment before putting it back. There was no way he would be able to light it… not when he was practically standing in a waterfall. Spotting the silhouette of a nearby tree in the darkness, he found his opportunity. Though its leaves could not shield him entirely from the storm, it was the best he could do.

Pulling out his lantern once again, he struck the flint of his tinderbox, producing a spark, but not one sufficient to persuade the lantern’s candle. A second strike only succeeded in launching a few sparks at the young adventurer’s hand, and he let out a yelp as he quickly set down the tinderbox and lantern, cradling the burned hand in the gray cloth of his shirt. ‘Third time’s a charm,’ he thought to himself half-sarcastically. With one more strike, a flame finally blossomed atop the lantern’s candle, carving a sphere of illumination into the darkness. Finally something was going his way. As he left the shelter of the tree’s branches, he was once again drenched in the full force of the downpour, but at least he could see a little better and the lantern’s flame managed to stave off the bitter cold ever so slightly.

Step after step Jexel walked, the gravel trail before him seeming to go on forever. Somehow, the path felt so much longer this time around than when he had left Lumbridge. He pleaded with his pained and freezing muscles to push onwards as he shivered in the winter rain. It couldn’t be much further to Lumbridge, could it? The world that had once stretched nigh-infinitely in every direction was reduced to a line, and each step seemed more difficult than the last. Maybe mother was right… maybe he really wasn’t cut out to be an adventurer. If he had just done as he had been told and gone to the tower with Ilona, this never would have happened. It probably wasn’t too late to change his mind about the whole adventuring business and head to the tower to begin his apprenticeship… No. None of the heroes he heard about in the stories ever gave up at the first setback. Adventurers always persevered… adventurers always found a way… no matter what it took.

It was just as he felt about ready to collapse that he saw something in the distance… his lantern’s light had revealed the stone, wattle, and daub walls of a lone farmhouse. Finally! Shelter and rest was within sight! Approaching the house as quickly as his body would permit him to, he knocked emphatically on the front door. “Is anyone home? Please, I need help!”

After a moment, the door flung open, revealing the blue-eyed and slightly wrinkled face of a farmer with long, straight black hair. The man’s annoyed scowl and plain white clothing suggested that he had been roused from his sleep. “What are ya doin’ on my land, especially at this hour!?” the farmer demanded.

“I’m sorry to bother you!” Jexel replied, instinctively taking a step back and wringing his hands in a nervous, apologetic gesture. “I was attacked and robbed on the road. I don’t have any money left to pay for an inn, and it’s freezing and pouring out there! I… don’t want to ask for too much… but… would you be able to provide me with some shelter for the night? I… I would be very much willing to work in order to earn my keep, sir.”

The farmer was silent for a long moment as he contemplated the young adventurer’s plea. Finally, his expression softened. “Alright, son. You can stay here for the night, but no touchin’ anything unless I tell ya you can, got it? I know how ta protect myself, and if ya try takin’ advantage of my goodwill, there’ll be Zamorak ta pay.”

Jexel gave a smile of relief. “Thank you, sir! I understand! I’ll try not to be too much of a burden.”

“Come on in, son,” the farmer beckoned. Not needing to be told twice, the young adventurer obliged.

As he passed under the doorway of the farmhouse, it was like passing through a portal to another world. Though he still shivered in his rain-soaked clothes, the oppressive cold of the air was shattered by the house’s warmth and the downpour was now nothing more than a quiet, perhaps even pleasant pattering, unable to penetrate the roof above his head.

The farmer wasted no time in cobbling together some vague semblance of a bed for the adventurer: a bag of what seemed to be flour, a tablecloth, and a bunch of hay, spread across an empty corner of the wooden floorboards. It certainly wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing, but his eyes and muscles were sorely in need of rest, and he was in no position to be picky.

“There,” said the farmer, stretching his arms out towards the makeshift bed in a half-hearted welcoming gesture. “You can sleep there for the night. In the mornin’, we’ll talk about what work ya can do for me. Now remember, I’ll still be able to ‘ear you stompin’ around down here, so don’t go tryin’ to steal anythin’ or you’ll be sorry.”

“I-I understand,” Jexel replied emphatically. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this.”

The farmer simply nodded and tiredly marched upstairs, clearly impatient to get back to his interrupted sleep. Jexel, for his part, was also feeling quite drained and in need of a good night’s sleep. After he wearily set his lantern on the table, blew out its candle, and laid his backpack down on the floor, he practically collapsed onto his makeshift bed. Its texture was rough, uneven, and uncomfortable, but anything was better than being out in the rain and mud. He rested his head on the flour-pillow, shut his eyes, and within a few minutes, drifted into a sleep.

~***~

Where was he? The crypt? Lumbridge crypt?

“What are you waiting for? Finish me!”

“Do it, you useless pawn of Saradomin!”

“Fool! Idiot! Weakling!”

So hazy… but the cultist’s face was so clear… and then there was darkness. Nothing but darkness and blood. The wetness of blood, still warm as it escaped her body. The agonized moans and final breaths of a dying woman…

The darkness receded, and the sorceress was replaced by a man with a scarred face. A sword batted aside one of the man’s hands, cut into another, and suddenly, uncontrollably, the adventurer looked away.

He could still hear it, however. Bronze tearing through skin and muscle and bone. The gargling of a man trying to scream as blood overflowed from his mouth… but there was more, too. A word inaudible, but somehow still present, clear as day.

_Murderer._

~***~

A gasp escaped the adventurer as his eyelids opened wide, and he found himself once again in the farmhouse, the outline of its ceiling just barely visible in the dark of night. His heart pounded in his chest as he drew in short, shallow breaths, and his stomach felt like it had been dipped in the venom of a giant spider before being churned into butter. He had dealt with a feeling of nauseating guilt on a few nights since his adventure in the catacombs of Lumbridge, but it was far worse this time. He could hardly think of anything else, and it felt like he was certainly going to vomit.

It was warm inside, but still he shivered as he scrambled for the door, stepping back out into the raging storm.

_Murderer. Killer. Butcher._

The nausea was overpowering. The young adventurer doubled over, expelling the contents of his stomach all over the grass. Tears filled his eyes, and he collapsed to his knees.

“I had to do it! I had no choice! They were going to kill her!” he wailed, sobbing violently.

The farmer barged through the door, brandishing a pitchfork. “Oi! Where do ya think yer-” he started to protest, but as soon as he saw the young adventurer sitting sobbing and shivering in the muddy grass, almost oblivious to the storm in his despair, his demeanor softened. “By Saradomin’s beard! Are you alright, son?”

Jexel tried his best to steady himself, wiping away his tears and slowly turning to face the farmer. “I… I’m alright. I… it’s just been a difficult night for me. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” asked the farmer.

“Really, I’m alright,” Jexel assured him, some modicum of calmness creeping back into his voice.

“If you say so,” said the farmer as he headed back inside, clearly aware that the adventurer was lying but unwilling to press him further.

Once he had collected himself, Jexel headed back to his makeshift bed. However, no matter how hard he tried, he just could not seem to fall asleep. The worst of it had passed, but the guilt still scraped away at the back of his mind. It was stupid… it was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. Ilona’s life was in danger, and reasoning with the cultists would have been futile…

This was futile. He couldn’t just keep thinking about it for the rest of the night; he needed some sleep. He scavenged his mind for something, anything he could occupy it with, and soon, his thoughts had drifted to the storm that still raged outside… that winter storm that seemed as savage and relentless as a demon’s wrath. His mind wandered to the fairies again. So enigmatic they were, if they really did control the weather, to inflict such a bitter storm upon the Misthalian countryside. At the same time, however, perhaps the storm was not all bad. If all things had a place within the Natural Order… if all things had a purpose… a place where they belonged, as Saradomin taught, then that must have included the storm. Mother had always been happy to see them, talking about how they were needed for the crops to grow properly, and Ilona could spend ages absorbed in her own little world, watching the droplets navigate down the window and listening to the caress of the rain as it joined with the grass and soil.

There was indeed something soothing about it now that he was indoors. The rain’s soft pattering, punctuated now and then by the roar of thunder. Most of the thunderclaps were distant and strangely gentle, yet there was also a series of them that felt much closer and were strangely rhythmic, almost like the footsteps of some huge creature.

Before long, the young adventurer had forgotten all about the troubles that had plagued him earlier that night, and he drifted peacefully back into a well-earned sleep.

~***~

Hearing the call of a rooster outside, Jexel opened his eyes to see the morning sun casting a clear, bright light through the windows. Never in his life had he been so glad to see a sunny day; he had no interest in walking through a horrible winter downpour again.

As the young adventurer crawled out of bed, stretching his arms as he rose to his feet, he noticed that the farmer was already awake, buttering some bread for his breakfast. “Top of the mornin’ to ya,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Jexel. “Did you sleep well?”

Jexel nodded. “Well enough, mister… umm…”

“You can just call me Fred,” said the farmer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fred. I’m Jexel Luminel, an adventurer from Lumbridge. Well, sort of an adventurer...” replied the young adventurer as he rummaged through his backpack for some food.

“Jexel? Yer that guardsman’s son, right? The one who died when those good-fer-nothing Skulls raided the Duke’s castle?” the farmer asked, putting down the food he was preparing and turning to face the young adventurer.

Jexel’s posture stiffened. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Alright, lad, I meant no ‘arm,” Fred replied, an apologetic expression upon his face.

“Don’t worry about it,” said the adventurer, retrieving a plain, stale slice of bread from his backpack. It wasn’t exactly the most delicious meal, but it was all he had, and it would be rude to ask anything more of the farmer. “I deeply appreciate your hospitality in giving me shelter for the night. I felt like I was going to collapse if I had to walk much farther.”

“I couldn’t ‘ave just left you out there in the storm,” said the farmer, setting his buttered bread at the table with some cabbage stew. As he noticed Jexel’s lantern resting on it, he handed it back to the young adventurer, who returned it to his backpack with a grateful smile. “But ya told me you would work to repay me, and now it’s time to make good on those words. Do ya know how to shear a sheep, son?”

Jexel nodded. “It’s been a while, but I think I can remember what to do.”

The farmer took a seat at the table and continued preparing his breakfast. “Then that’ll do. I got this one sheep, ya see, that ain’t like the others. This one’s a black sheep, and I’ve gotten a lotta people askin’ me for some black wool. This one bloke offered me two dozen gold pieces for every ball of black wool I could bring ‘im, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna turn down that kind of business. What yer gonna do is go ‘round the back, shear my black sheep, and spin the wool into balls. Bring ‘em to me and you can be on yer way.”

“Shear one sheep and spin you a few balls of wool? Is that really it?” asked Jexel.

“I ain’t a demanding man. Just do what yer told and yer free to go,” replied the farmer as he took a bite out of his buttered bread.

Jexel shrugged his shoulders. From what he remembered, shearing a sheep could take quite a while, but even so, it wouldn’t be much more difficult than the chores mother often had him do. “If that’s really all you need, Mr. Fred, I’ll gladly help out.”

The farmer gave a nod of approval. “Good. Once yer done with yer breakfast, you’ll get to work.”

The farmer and the adventurer sat in relative silence for the next several minutes as they ate their breakfast. Jexel, grateful as he was for Fred’s hospitality, was very much eager to just finish what he needed to do and get on with his day. Once he got back to Lumbridge proper, he would need to get some more money from mother, probably endure a scolding from her for stupidly getting himself in such a dangerous situation in the first place, and then figure out what to do about getting a new sword. The farmer, for his part, made it clear from his distant, business-like tone of voice that he too just wanted to get things over with and was quite understandably not thrilled with the idea of having someone he hardly knew just sitting in his house. Once they were finished with their breakfast, Fred wasted no time in handing Jexel a pair of shears.

“As soon as ya step out the front door, just turn right and head ‘round the back. The sheep pen should be right there,” said the farmer.

“You got it, Mr. Fred. One sheared black sheep coming right up,” said Jexel as he headed for the door, shears in hand.

As the young adventurer stepped out of the farmhouse and turned the corner of its wall, he was greeted with many sights. A clear, bright, blue sky, the peaceful hills of Misthalin’s countryside, and a fenced enclosure containing a multitude of sheep, who eyed him with curiosity… but something was not right. There were plenty of white sheep, but the black one Fred had told him to shear was not to be found anywhere. “Umm… sir? You said to shear the black sheep, right?”

“That I did, son,” the farmer replied.

“I… don’t see any black sheep here anywhere,” said Jexel.

The farmer emerged from the house. “What are you talkin’ ab-” Fred’s eyes widened as he too noticed the absence of the black sheep. “Blimey, it’s gone!”

For a long moment, the adventurer and the farmer simply stood there in silence, unsure of what to do next, until Fred finally spoke up. “Now wait just a minute, what’s this?” The farmer climbed over the fence and knelt down in the middle of the pen, examining the ground more closely, with Jexel following behind him.

As the young adventurer approached, he saw what the farmer had noticed: a massive footprint pressed into the soft, still-wet earth. Though it was humanoid in shape, it was easily more than twice the size of a man’s foot.

The farmer brushed his long hair out of his eyes to get a clearer look, and the color drained from his face as he stared at the footprint. “A giant has been ‘ere! A giant’s taken my sheep! Oh Saradomin, what am I gonna do now!? It’s gonna eat all my livestock and then it’s gonna smash down my house!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Fred, but-” Jexel began to interject.

“I’m gonna lose my ‘ouse, I’m gonna lose my crops, I’m-”

“Fred, please! Calm down for a moment!” the young adventurer pleaded.

“Calm down… calm down? There’s a bloomin’ giant strollin’ across my land and stealin’ my sheep, and you want me to calm down!?” the farmer replied.

“This hasn’t happened to you before, has it?” asked Jexel.

“Well, no, it ain’t every day that a giant walks right into yer farm and steals yer sheep, is it?” the farmer replied irritably.

“And it only took one sheep?”

“Looks like it. Everythin’ else seems fine,” said the farmer, slightly more calmly, as he looked around.

“If the giant doesn’t come back, maybe you’ll be alright,” the young adventurer suggested.

“Well… maybe…” the farmer pondered. “But even if it doesn’t come back… I’m gonna lose a lotta money. That sheep was my best ‘un, you know? Even a regular sheep ain’t cheap… but that black one? Everyone wanted a piece o’ that wool, and there ain’t a sheep in Misthalin that can replace it…”

“Maybe… I could try to find it for you?” the adventurer offered.

The farmer gave Jexel a look as if he just suggested that juggling knives with one’s feet was an excellent pastime for children. “Are you crazy, son? That sheep’s probably dead by now, and if that giant sees you, it’ll eat you alive! Even the duke’s guards would be done for if they picked a fight with somethin’ like that!”

“I mean… you gave me shelter when I needed it most. The least I can do is try to help, right?” Jexel replied.

“I’ll find somethin’ else for you to do. There’s no sense in gettin’ yourself killed,” said Fred.

“Whatever that thing is, it’s clearly a lot bigger than I am. If I run across it on these open hills, I’ll see it before it sees me, and then I can just run away.” Jexel reasoned.

“Adventurers…” the farmer muttered, sighing deeply. “Alright. If you really wanna get yerself killed, there’s nothin’ I can do to stop ya.”

Jexel smiled proudly. “Hey, what’s an adventurer without a perilous quest?”

As the young adventurer followed the trail of footprints across the hills of Misthalin, a feeling of liberation overcame him. Soon the farmhouse disappeared into the distance behind him, and he was surrounded by nothing but golden grass, a few flecks of green still clinging to its blades even through winter’s reign, the sun above shining brightly through cerulean skies. The world felt open once again, and though the path of footprints was laid clearly before him, it was a path of his own choosing. He wondered… might everything turn out alright after all? In so many of the stories he had heard, the hero’s darkest hour came just before their triumph, and he couldn’t help but feel like his darkest hour had passed.

Before long, the trail of the giant led him to a cliff face of rough, sturdy brown stone. Underneath an overhang, there was a gaping hole in the cliff, the giant’s tracks leading into it. The young adventurer felt his heart pounding as he approached. This was dangerous… very dangerous, but he found himself compelled to continue on. Each step he took was cautious and deliberate, lest he be discovered by what lurked within. However, as he slowly crept into the mouth of the cave and the sky above gave way to stone, he found no confirmation of a giant’s presence.

Jexel almost jumped out of his skin, gasping sharply, as he heard a noise echoing from within. It sounded like the bleating of a sheep… As he listened more carefully and stood as still and silent as he could, the bleating continued. Save for the poor animal’s frightened cry, however, he could hear nothing else. The footsteps and vibrations that would have betrayed a giant’s presence were nowhere to be found. Perhaps they weren’t home? Carefully, the young adventurer ventured deeper into the cave, emerging into a spacious and surprisingly well-lit cavern, its walls lined with crude torches, with what looked like the roots of trees poking through the ceiling. On the far side of the cavern was a column of sunlight pouring through a hole in the ceiling, shining directly onto a circle of stones and ashes that must have been a crude fire pit. Along the wall to his left was a cage haphazardly cobbled together from sticks and animal bones… at least he hoped they were animal bones. Sure enough, there was a sheep with black wool trapped inside, repeatedly ramming itself against the cage in a futile attempt to escape.

“There you are…” Jexel whispered to himself. Though obviously terrified, the sheep was unharmed as far as he could tell. However, it probably wasn’t going to stay that way for long if he didn’t figure out a way to get it back to its rightful owner. He would have to be quick… surely it wouldn’t be long before the giant came home.

As he approached the cage, the black sheep continued to cry out in fear. “Don’t worry, friend,” said Jexel with a comforting smile. “Nobody is going to hurt you. I’m just going to get you back to Mr. Fred and you’ll be safe.”

In truth, however, he was not quite sure of what he was going to do. There was a boulder blocking the door to the cage in what he presumed was the giant equivalent of a lock, and though he tried to push it out of the way, the massive slab of stone adamantly refused to budge. As crudely constructed as the cage was, there was no way he was going to break through it with his bare hands, and he had no tools on hand that would be of any help. Even if he figured out a way to release the sheep from its captivity, there was still the matter of bringing it back to Fred…

Before he had the chance to think on his conundrum any longer, he felt the ground vibrate and heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. The young adventurer’s heart raced and for a moment, all he could do was stand still, shivering with fear, before his senses returned to him.

The giant… the giant was approaching! There was no way he would be able to make it outside unseen; he had to find somewhere to hide and fast. In the center of the cavern, he spotted a table consisting of a flat slab of stone resting atop four logs, multiple bear skins sprawled across it like a makeshift tablecloth. With no time to find another hiding spot, he dashed underneath, hoping with all his hope that he would not be noticed.


	2. On the Shoulders of Giants

As the footsteps drew closer, he could make out the noise of more than one pair of feet stomping about. Not just a giant, but multiple giants. So stupid… he had been so incredibly stupid. The farmer warned him, but he just had to be a hero and put himself in unnecessary peril. Now he was trapped under a table surrounded by giants, without a weapon, without any means of escape, without any clue of what he was doing, with only a bearskin tablecloth standing between him and the Eternal Choir. He should have listened to the farmer when he told him not to go. He should have listened to mother when she told him to stay away from adventuring and go to the Wizards’ Tower. Now, there was a very real chance he would pay dearly for his stupidity.

“Dad, I dun’ like oranges!” he heard a boyish, albeit powerful voice say.

“We couldn’ find any rats, so you’re jus’ gonna hafta eat ‘um,” a deeper, stronger voice replied.

“But da outside part is gross!” the boyish voice whined.

“Dun’ be such a baby!” a somewhat low-pitched, yet still girlish voice chimed in. “You can jus’ take off da outside part, stupid!”

“Luni, dun’ talk like dat to your brother!” said the deep voice. “Tewnz, we still have dat sheep from las’ night. If you eat all your oranges, you can have some fresh sheep for dinner.”

“Fine,” the boyish voice replied.

“Can I have some sheep too?” the girlish voice pleaded.

“Of course, but you an’ your brother will hafta share da sheepy meats,” said the deep voice.

“Yay, tasty sheepy meats!” the girlish voice cheered.

“Now eat your oranges, an’ you can play with your shinies after,” the deep voice replied.

Jexel heard the stomping of the giants’ footsteps again. He was in real trouble… there were at least three of them, as if one giant wasn’t bad enough, and one of them sounded like it was getting really cl-

“Ow!” he said reflexively as a massive toe collided with his face.

“Wuzzat?” said the girlish voice.

This was it. He was completely and utterly done for. What a pathetic, laughable fool he had been… throwing his life away and accomplishing absolutely nothing in return. He frantically sifted through his mind, trying to think of a prayer, any prayer, that might grant him the slightest chance of survival, but he could think of nothing. They would find him, they would slaughter him, and he would be served alongside the sheep.

Before he knew it, he was face to face with a creature with thin, messy brown hair, curious green eyes, and a smooth, vaguely potato-shaped head. Though she looked like a child, she was still easily larger than he was. “Hey look, it’s a hooman! Hi hooman!” she said, beaming with childish wonder.

“Erm… h-hi,” Jexel nervously replied, backing away from the young giantess as much as the cramped space under the table would allow and shielding his face with his arms.

“Wuz’ a hooman doing under da table?” the deep voice asked.

“Wha’ are you doing under da table?” the giant-girl asked in turn.

“I um… you’re… you’re not going to eat me?” asked Jexel.

“Why we eat hoomans?” the giant-girl questioned quizzically.

“Hoomans our friends, we dun’ eat friends,” said the deeper voice, who sounded surprised that he would ask such a thing. Jexel sighed with relief. Was he safe after all?

“But dad, I thought you said hoomans were mean,” the boyish voice replied.

“HAM-mans are mean, hoomans are nice,” explained the deeper voice.

“So dis is a nice hooman?” the boyish voice asked.

“I umm… yes! I don’t mean any harm. I don’t even have a weapon. Can we just talk, please?” asked Jexel, still slightly nervous.

“Dun be scared, hooman,” said the giant-girl. “Come out an’ talk with us!”

Jexel reluctantly nodded. “Alright… i-if you say so.” He still wasn’t completely ready to trust the giants, but there was no way he was going to sneak or fight his way out, so he might as well do as they asked.

The young adventurer slowly crawled out from under the table to see the three giants staring right at him, each of them clad in a mishmash of animal skins sewn together. In addition to the girl who had poked her head under the table, there was one who seemed to be a young boy, his face freckled, his hands constantly in motion as he fidgeted with his fingers, and his perfectly smooth, hairless head looking almost like a brown egg. He, along with the girl, stood only slightly taller than him, but were far broader in stature.

The third giant however, who he assumed was the father of the other two, towered far above the young adventurer, and he had to tilt his head upwards to meet the mighty creature’s gaze. His hands were the size of a human’s head and his muscles looked powerful enough to hold up a mountain. Like the boy, there was not a trace of hair on his head, but a curly brown beard hung from his rugged face.

“I’m Luni!” the girl introduced herself, shaking the young adventurer’s hand.

“I’m Tewnz!” the boy followed, squeezing Jexel’s hand just a little too hard.

“Ow! Be gentle, please!” said the young adventurer, pulling his arm back and gingerly rubbing his hand.

“Sorry,” replied the giant-boy, an apologetic frown on his youthful face.

“My name Tylkec,” said the giant-dad taking the young adventurer’s hand very delicately and carefully. “What your name, hooman?”

“Jexel Luminel, good sir,” the adventurer replied, feeling a lot more confident about his chances of survival.

“You sit and talk with us, Jexel, yes? We eat juicy oranges, talk about things dat hoomans like, sound good?” Tylkec offered.

“Of course, Mr. Tylkec!” said Jexel, offering a friendly smile. “Actually, there is something important I need to discuss with you.”

At this, the two children looked dismayed, as if they were sure the human standing before them was going to drone on and on in a boring conversation about adult things. They took their seats opposite each other at the table, with their father taking a seat on the far side between them. Jexel took the seat nearest to him, across from Tylkec, and immediately felt even tinier. The tree stump that served as his chair was wide enough for four people to sit on it, and he felt like a child with his shoulders just barely poking above the massive stone table. Luni immediately started gobbling down oranges, while Tewnz, eyeing the fruit with disgust, ate them reluctantly. Tylkec, however, ate nothing, leaving the fruit to his children, save for one, which he offered to Jexel.

“Thank you sir, but I’ve already had breakfast,” said Jexel, holding his palm close in front of him in a polite declining gesture.

“Can I have it, den?” asked Luni as she wishfully eyed the orange.

“You can have ‘em all,” replied Tewnz as he made a face at her.

“You’re jus’ mad cuz I found all dese oranges and you couldn’ catch any rats!” Luni taunted.

“Oranges are stupid, jus’ like you!” Tewnz retorted.

“Be nice or no playing with shinies later!” Tylkec demanded. “Remember, everyone be nice, everyone happier. Luni, Tewnz, say sorry, please.”

“Sorry,” said the two children resignedly and simultaneously.

“Good,” the giant-father replied. “Now hooman, what you wanted to talk about?”

“I… umm…” Jexel stammered. How was he going to word this? Just tell them to give back the sheep? “That sheep over there…” he pointed to the poor animal in the cage, huddled in the back and still trying in vain to break the bars. “You have to put it back where you found it.”

The three giants stared at Jexel, his gaze outnumbered and outgunned by theirs, and he reflexively raised his arms in a defensive gesture. This was a terrible mistake… he should have left when he had the chance.

“You can’t take our sheep!” Luni whined.

“We need da meats!” Tewnz added.

“We’re scaring da hooman,” said Tylkec, his eyes widened with concern. “Luni, Tewnz, you can play with da shinies. I talk to da hooman.”

The two giant-children nodded and scurried off into a cave branching off from the cavern that had previously escaped the adventurer’s notice, while their father kept his eye on the young adventurer, munching on the leftover oranges that his children had left behind. “Hooman Jexel, you want us to put sheep back? Why?”

“That sheep doesn’t belong to you,” Jexel explained. “It belongs to a farmer. He really needs it back.”

“What?” said Tylkec, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “But I only took da black one. I thought hoomans didn’t like da black sheeps.”

“Actually, that black one is the farmer’s favorite sheep,” Jexel replied. “He’s really upset that you took it.”

The giant hung his head low. “Now I feel bad. I not want to make farmer hooman sad.”

“Can… can you give it back, please? It’s really important to him,” the adventurer pleaded.

“But… den Luni and Tewnz not have dinner. We not find very much food… good dad give da kids lotsa food. I need to give Luni and Tewnz sheep or dey not happy, den dey think I bad dad,” said the giant, his sadness rendering his voice quiet and feeble, at least by giant standards.

“I…” Jexel trailed off. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He didn’t want Fred to lose his best sheep, but at the same time, he didn’t want the giant’s children to go hungry either. “Maybe we can find another way to feed your children?”

“But how?” the giant asked.

Just then, the voice of Tewnz could be heard from the branching cave. “Haha, I mighty warrior, like Big High War God! Fear mighty shiny stick!”

Luni emerged from the cave, seemingly running from her brother. “Tewnz, stop!” she protested.

“Aww c’mon, I wuz jus’ playing around,” said Tewnz as he too emerged from the cave holding… a sword? And no mere guardsman’s blade at that; in his hand, the young giant held an ornately fashioned longsword with a pale golden hilt, its guard depicting the feathered wings of an icyene with a blue gemstone set between them. Its pristine blade was a pure metallic white. It was like something out of a fable… Where had the blade come from? How did it find its way into the hands of these friendly giants? They couldn’t have killed someone for it, could they? Maybe it was a reward for some great deed?

“Where did you find that?” asked Jexel as he eyed the young giant’s blade.

“Shiny hooman warrior-stick? I find it in strange rock pile. It look like hooman place, but no hoomans there. Maybe hoomans throw it away? I like it, it shiny, put with other shinies!” replied Tewnz.

“Tewnz, careful with hooman warrior-stick! Very sharp, very dangerous!” said Tylkec, alarmed.

“Listen to your father,” urged Jexel. “That thing could really hurt you if you’re not careful. You should put it back.”

“Put warrior-stick back, play with other shinies,” Tylkec added.

“Aww…” said the young giant as he lowered the blade and started to walk half-heartedly back into the branching cave.

“Wait,” said Jexel. Tewnz paused and turned to listen to the young adventurer. “What else do you have in there?”

“Nothing as fun as warrior-stick…” the young giant replied dejectedly before he disappeared once again into the branching cave.

“Jexel hooman want to see shinies?” asked Luni excitedly.

“Yes please, if you don’t mind.”

The young giantess skipped happily as she led Jexel into the branching cave, bringing him to a torchlit room filled to the brim with treasure. The ornate sword was resting on a makeshift shelf formed from a chunk of rock jutting out of the wall. Though he wasn’t quite sure why, there was something mesmerizing about the sword… something drawing his attention towards it. He would have very much liked to wield it, but alas, it was not his to take. It was far from the only treasure the cave contained, however, and myriad gemstones, jewelry, coins were messily strewn about everywhere. Tewnz sifted through them in an attempt to find something that interested him, eventually settling on having a sapphire and a ruby ‘fight’ each other as he imitated the sounds of battle. The young adventurer gaped in wonder at how much wealth was stuffed into the back of an unassuming cave. There must have been around a dozen runite coins. Those alone were worth as much money as a farmer made in several months, to say nothing of all the adamant, mithril, and gold coins.

Luni picked up an exquisitely detailed wooden statuette of an icyene: a regal-looking, hooded figure wielding an elaborate spear. “This one my favorite!” she said, holding it up proudly like a trophy. “She my li’l bird-hooman friend!”

“It is quite something…” Jexel replied, still not over his amazement that the giants could possess such wealth. If they brought even a fraction of this treasure to the market… “Of course!” the young adventurer whispered to himself. “Sorry Luni, but I need to talk to your father now about something important, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Aww… dat sounds boring,” Luni replied as the young adventurer returned to the main cavern.

“I’ve got it!” Jexel said as he approached Tylkec sitting at the table. “I know a way you can keep the farmer happy and get even more sheep in return!”

The giant’s ears perked up. “How you do dat?”

“Those… shiny things in that cave over there,” Jexel replied, pointing towards the treasure room. “Those are really valuable to humans. If I take a few of those and give them to the farmer, maybe he’ll be willing to give you some of his other sheep in return. That way, everyone will be happy.”

“But… Luni and Tewnz will be sad if da farmer hooman takes da shinies,” said the giant.

“You’ll only have to give away a few. Luni and Tewnz will still have plenty left over to play with. Besides, isn’t it more important that they have enough to eat?” Jexel reasoned.

“Hmm…” The giant raised a hand to his chin in thought. After a moment, he slowly nodded. “Jexel have good idea. We give farmer hooman shinies, give back black sheep, den he give us three normal sheeps for eating, yes?”

The young adventurer smiled. “Perfect! Let’s get going!”

~***~

The entire way back to Fred’s farm, the black sheep whined and squirmed as it tried to escape Tylkec’s firm grasp. Jexel frowned as he looked at the poor creature. He felt sorry for the animal, but he was no shepherd, and it had to be returned to Fred somehow.

As the adventurer and the giant approached the farmhouse, Fred emerged from around its corner carrying a rake, which he promptly dropped upon spotting the pair. “Oh no, it’s comin’ back!” he yelled, attempting to flee, only to trip over a small rock that had escaped his notice in his terror. “Oh good gods, I’m doomed! I’m done fer! It’s gonna-” he fell silent for a moment, his jaw dropping, as he took another look at Jexel and Tylkec. “Wait, what’s goin’ on? My black sheep? Jexel?”

“Hello again, Mr. Fred!” said Jexel, waving. “I got your sheep back, and there’s someone here who has a business proposition for you.”

“Giants… proposin’ business things? By Saradomin’s beard, did I ‘it my ‘ead when I fell?” said the farmer, staring in wonder.

Tylkec set the black sheep back down in its pen. As soon as he released his grip on it, it bolted to the back of the enclosure, huddling with the others for security. “Farmer hooman not hurt, is he?” he asked, frowning with concern.

Fred flinched fearfully at the sound of the giant’s powerful voice. “I-I’m alright, I think…” the farmer replied, dusting off his shirt and overalls. “Just what in the gods’ names is goin’ on here? Do you really have a business offer for me?”

“Indeed we do,” said Jexel.

“Farmer hooman give three sheeps, I give farmer tiny circle-shinies. I feed little ones with sheepy meats, farmer happy with shinies, yes?” Tylkec proposed. As he spoke, Fred backed away slightly, clearly nervous.

“W-what kind of ‘shinies’ are we talkin’ about?” asked the farmer, eyeing the giant skeptically.

“Ten thousand gold pieces, to be precise,” said Jexel, withdrawing ten runite coins from his pocket.

“Ten thousand!? Blimey, are my sheep gonna grow wings next?” said the farmer, rubbing his forehead in disbelief. “Well Jexel, I ‘ave no idea how yer still alive, how ya arranged this, or how ya got that… giant to bring back my sheep, but I ain’t gonna pass up a deal like that. Consider it done.”

“Excellent!” said Jexel with a bright smile, climbing over the sheep pen’s fences as he approached the farmer with the coins in hand. “Thank you for doing this, Fred. You’ve made a family very happy today.”

“Erm… no problem,” replied the farmer as he took the coins and pocketed them, still barely able to believe what was going on and seeming to stare right through the young adventurer. “I… I’m assumin’ he’ll carry the sheep back to… wherever he lives?” he added, pointing at Tylkec.

The adventurer and the giant glanced at each other. “Umm… I not think about dat,” said Tylkec. “One sheep I carry, two sheep I carry, three sheep too much. Can farmer hooman help?”

“Sorry to ask, but could you be so kind as to lead three of your sheep over to his cave?” asked Jexel.

“You ‘ave gotta be kiddin’ me, son. You want me ta walk on into a giant’s cave? Have ya lost yer marbles?” Fred asked incredulously.

“It’s not that far, and it’s perfectly safe. I didn’t come to any harm, did I?” Jexel assured him.

The farmer sighed. “Alright, alright… but he’s gonna have to leave until we’re done or these sheep’ll run fer the hills the second they see ‘im.”

“I go away with little ones, get wood for roasting sheepy meats, hoomans bring sheep? When we go home, hoomans already done,” Tylkec proposed.

“Sounds good ta me,” Fred replied. “Off ya go, then. We should get started.”

“Thank you, hooman!” said the giant, raising a fist to the sky in a celebratory gesture before strolling off into the hills.

~***~

“Are ya really sure this is a good idea?” Fred asked Jexel several times on the way back to Tylkec’s cave, three of his sheep following his lead. Time and time again, the adventurer had to assure him that yes, it was perfectly safe, and that he would not have returned alive if it were not. It was beginning to get on his nerves that Fred insisted on asking him over and over again, but at the same time, he found it difficult to blame the farmer. He could not be expected to stop being afraid of giants in a day, after all.

As they entered the giant’s cave, the sheep began to look quite uneasy themselves, refusing to enter the enclosure where their black-fleeced companion had previously been kept. Fred sighed. “I thought this might ‘appen. Sheep can be a real pain when yer tryin’ to take them somewhere they don’t wanna go. Lucky for us, I planned ahead. These things ‘ere usually do the trick.” he said as he brandished a cattle prod. As he held the prod close to the sheep, they quickly fell into line. Not keen on the idea of being poked, each of them retreated into the cage.

“There,” said the farmer as he closed the gate behind them, dusting off his hands. Though the boulder that was meant to ‘lock’ the gate had been moved away by Tylkec when he returned Fred’s black sheep, the gate by itself was still enough to keep the sheep in, provided that it was not opened again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I ‘ave things to do back at the farm. The sooner I’m out of this place, the better.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” said Jexel as the farmer walked away. “You’ve done so much already, both for me and for the giants. I want you to know just how much I, and they, appreciate that.”

The farmer paused for a moment and turned again to face the adventurer. “Hey, Jexel?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for gettin’ my black sheep back, son. Yer still a damn fool, but yer a brave fool. I wish ya luck on yer travels,” said the farmer.

The adventurer smiled proudly. “Farewell, sir. I wish you luck in your future endeavors as well,” he said as the farmer departed.

It was not long after the farmer had crossed out of sight over the sun-bathed hills of the countryside that Tylkec, Luni, and Tewnz returned, each of them with their arms full of firewood. “We’re going to roast da sheepy meats!” said Luni and Tewnz in a singsong voice as they threw the wood onto the fire pit.

“Jexel hooman, happy to see you!” Tylkec called out with a wide smile. “You stay for dinner, eat da sheepy meats with us?”

“Thank you, Tylkec, but I’m afraid I’ll need to get going soon,” the adventurer replied.

“Aww… but we want to give Jexel hooman something. Jexel hooman help us,” said Tylkec. “Maybe give some circle-shinies? Hoomans like da circle-shinies.”

Jexel nodded. “Actually, I do need those. I lost all of mine.”

“Good!” Tylkec replied. “Jexel hooman take some circle-shinies before leaving.”

“Thank you!” said Jexel. After he had taken a few steps towards the treasure room, however, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait… if you don’t mind… may I also ask Tewnz something before I go?”

Tewnz perked up his ears. “Hmm? Hooman want something?”

Jexel clasped his hands together nervously. He wasn’t quite sure how to word what he was about to say, but there was no harm in asking. “That sword of yours, that warrior-stick… can I have it? Please?”

Tewnz gave Jexel a sad look. “But… warrior-stick shiny and fun…”

“I think it good for hooman to have warrior-stick,” Tylkec chimed in as Jexel and Tewnz turned to face him.

“But daaad…” Tewnz protested.

“Warrior-stick sharp and dangerous. Warrior-stick not safe for playing, and hooman help us. We help hooman too, yes? Warrior-stick made for hooman anyway,” said Tylkec.

Tewnz sighed. “Fine, Jexel hooman can have warrior-stick. Go in da side-cave and take it.”

Jexel smiled brightly. “Thank you, Tewnz!” he said as he gave the young giant a pat on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something else to play with. Something that’s a little safer.”

“Tewnz very good to hooman. I find more shinies, make Tewnz smile every day, yes?” said Tylkec.

“I didn’t doubt you would!” Jexel added.

As he stepped into the treasure room, Jexel found the sword still resting where Tewnz had left it earlier. Slowly, he approached it, and as he wrapped his fingers around the dark blue cloth of the sword’s grip, he felt a deep and immediate sense of empowerment. His eyes meticulously scanned the weapon from pommel to tip. Now that he had a chance to look at it more closely, he noticed that the blue gemstone on the sword’s guard was a star of Saradomin cut from skystone, or lapis lazuli as the Menaphites and Asgarnians called it. The sword’s pommel was set with skystone as well, albeit in the form of an orb rather than a star. He wasn’t quite sure why, but somehow, the sword felt like it was meant for him. As he held it aloft, the confines of the cave seemed to melt away, and he pictured all the peoples of Gielinor, from Menaphos in the south to the Fremennik isles in the north, from Wushanko in the east to the fabled Tirannwn in the west, from the pinnacle of the Wizards’ Tower to the subterranean city of Keldagrim, looking upon his blade as the source of their hope and their guardian against evil. A childish dream that would never come to pass, but even so, perhaps he could indeed make the world a better place, if only in some small way.

After he had pocketed a few gold and mithril coins, just enough to replace what the Skulls had taken from him, the young adventurer prepared to depart, resting his new sword on his shoulder. He would need to have a scabbard made for it soon, but for now, he would just have to carry it by hand. “I want to thank you sincerely for the coins and the sword,” he said to Tylkec as the giant and his children prepared their fire pit to ensure it would be ready for their mutton dinner later. “You’ve been a great help to me, and I deeply appreciate that. I need to get going now, though. Farewell to you all. I wish you luck in all your future endeavors.”

“Jexel hooman help us, so we help Jexel hooman!” Tylkec replied with a grateful smile across his sizable face. 

“Goodbye Jexel hooman!” Luni and Tewnz called out as they waved to the adventurer. With a smile, Jexel waved back.

“Hope warrior-stick help Jexel hooman!” Tylkec added.

“It definitely will. I’ll need to spend some time practicing with it, but there are a lot of people out there who need someone to fight for them, and I hope I can give them what they need,” replied the adventurer.

“Jexel hooman very smart, very nice. You become great warrior, do great things!” said Tylkec.

The young adventurer chuckled at such a flattering description of himself. “I hope so,” he said as he stepped out of the giants’ cave and back out into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is finally, the continuation of Jexel's journey! This was quite a challenge to write, as it deviates a lot more from canon events than First Blade did, and I was admittedly a little nervous about whether or not people would like my ideas, but hey, it can't hurt to throw them out there, can it? I actually got the idea for this story when my girlfriend talked about seeing people post RuneScape fics that were nothing more than recaps of Sheep Shearer, and I decided to have a little fun with it, taking the idea of Sheep Shearer and turning it into (hopefully) a proper story.
> 
> As always, feedback, both positive and negative, is appreciated, as long as it's constructive, and I hope you'll enjoy reading this!


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